Fit for the Gods
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Hundreds of years ago, the mighty Aztec empire ruled the jungles of Latin America. Their gods smiled upon them and blessed the empire with riches and power. To uphold their favor, however, the gods required human blood. Next in line for the throne, Alfred had no qualms with the ritual. Until he saw the sacrifice's green eyes.
1. Chapter 1

At long last the beating of the drums echoed into the evening sky. The ceremony had begun.

Alfred shifted forward in his seat as the high priest walked into view in the center of the stage, standing in front of a low stone bench with his back to the royal family. The _pipil_ didn't mind the old man, but the lower ranking priests who formed a semicircle around their leader obstructed Alfred's view. As the son of the emperor, he had the right to view the harvest sacrifice just like anyone else. Frowning, he parted his lips to order the men to step aside but the booming voice of the high priest drowned out his own.

"These are the days of our great lament," the man yelled, causing even the youngest children in the crowd below to hold their tongues. "The land thirsts. A great plague has infected our crops."

Despite not being able to see much, Alfred felt the lull of the constant thuds of the drums thrumming in his veins. The beat slowly picked up momentum with each powerful word the high priest cried out. The ceremony was working its magic, enthralling him as well as every other nobleman and commoner in attendance. Alfred couldn't recall the last time he had been so focused.

"The gods are angry! They would finish the world today, the moment the sun sets. Do you wish for it, o people of the sun?"

Hisses and loud shouts came from the crowds, stamping their feet. The fire from the torches flickered across their faces, shadowing and highlighting their despair. Many of the women cried, neglecting to quieten the hollering infants in their arms.

"Rejoice, blessed ones! The gods do not abandon their chosen ones! All they require is a sacrifice to appease their temper, and the sun will smile upon us once more!"

And just like that, the public mood lightened with joy. Alfred himself could feel a bubble of excitement inflate within his chest as the people began to cheer. Their enthusiasm was infectious.

Unlike previous years when he would naively cling to every word the high priest issued, Alfred knew to detect and recognize the man's speech pattern and word usage. His tutor had been commissioned to study with him the art of charisma and manipulation in order to reach the same outstanding results as the priest did. He was a prince, after all. One day he would have to command armies and soothe his people's worries.

He didn't doubt the truth in the man's words, of course. The gods would punish them all severely if they were denied their sacrifice. That didn't mean that Alfred wasn't proud of his ability to recognize embellishment, though.

The priest must have given the signal for the sacrifice to be brought in as two armed men led a stranger onto the stage. Now that the ritual was officially about to commence, Alfred took advantage of the momentary confusion to stand up from his throne and edge closer towards the circle, standing solemnly beside the guards on the far left of the stage. If the men had any objection they didn't voice it.

It was then that Alfred took a good look at the sacrifice. The man had been cleaned thoroughly and swathed in ceremonial cotton. His hair and skin were fair enough, but his eyes were what really caught Alfred's attention.

Green, just like a jewel. Was that the reason why he had been selected? The man must have been a slave of some sort, as he surely wasn't a captive. Had he been purchased by the temple, or perhaps given as a donation? Who would give up such a pair of eyes so easily?

The more he looked at them, though, Alfred realized that there was something_off_ about the man. He didn't seem to be aware of his predicament as his face didn't betray any sign of fear or anxiety. In fact, his eyes was rather dull, expressionless. He reacted to physical prompts, walking to where he was pulled and falling to his knees in front of the stone altar when his shoulders were pushed.

_He's drugged_, Alfred realized with a start. It made sense, though. Bursts of powerful emotion had no place in a sacrificial ritual. The sacrifice wasn't supposed to display any human qualities- he was a means to an end. Sobbing, begging or even protest would disrupt the flow of things. Alfred had simply assumed that the sacrifices were willing.

The realization disturbed him. The high priest's sermon was drowned out by Alfred's own thoughts and the panic which all too easily replaced the excitement which had been building up in his chest only minutes before.

He was snapped back to the ceremony when the priest raised a knife over his head and called out to the heavens to accept this sacrifice. Alfred's eyes were glued to the blade as it was lowered closer to the ground, positioned strategically on the man's throat as the priest adjusted himself, hovering in back of the sacrifice for maximum effect. His free hand held the sacrifice by the chin, holding him in place.

The drums grew louder and louder, the sound no longer pleasant to Alfred's ears. He felt deafened by them, no longer empowered. He saw the priest bend down and whisper something in the sacrifice's ear, he saw the man swallow with the knife against his skin, he saw a ringlet of red stain the blade—

He _heard_ his own voice call out a shrill 'stop!'. Alfred found himself standing in front of the priest, a hand clasped around his wrist and his gaze levelling his. The priest looked up in shock and dropped the knife, taking a step back from the sacrifice in confusion.

"What is it, my prince?" he inclined his head, his lips curled in a disapproving frown. Even without looking, Alfred was sure that his family wore some variation of incredulousness on their faces. The drums had stopped their beating and the silence which enveloped him felt so much louder. Or maybe it was his own heartbeat?

"This man's blood shall not be spilled on the altar tonight, holy one," Alfred announced, keeping his voice steady and firm. He didn't look down at the man, but he could feel his intense green eyes on him. "That is not his fate."

The frown didn't disappear from the priest's face. "You are mistaken, your highness," he said softly, gesturing down at the sacrifice. "I have seen his fate in the stars. Without his blood, your people will starve."

Alfred could feel his conviction waiver. What if it was true, what if this man really was meant to be killed that night? Would he risk single handedly bringing ruin upon his people's heads? Would he have _their_ blood on his hands?

He looked down and saw that indeed, those green eyes were looking straight up at him. He held his breath and felt his heart skip a beat.

Surely the gods wouldn't place such a beauty on earth only to be reaped in its prime?

"Then you have seen wrongly," Alfred decreed, folding his arms across his chest in finality. He turned to his side to meet the emperor's eyes. "Father, do you agree with me on this?"

The old man studied his face for a long time. He must have decided that his son's resolve was strong, in the end, for he nodded his head slowly and called out to the priest to heed his words.

"This man shall not be sacrificed tonight, old friend," he ruled. "The ceremony will be rescheduled and doubled. That should appease the gods, should it not?"

The high priest knew when he was outnumbered. "Very well," he bowed low to the emperor, and then to Alfred. "I have been proven wrong. Let it be as His Highness commands!" he cried out to the people, who cried out their assent before slowly dispersing to their respective homes.

Alfred felt the heady sense of satisfaction course through his veins. He had won. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face the cluster of guards which now surrounded the man who's life he had just spared. The buzzed around him, pulling him to his feet.

"What should we do with him, your highness?" one of the men asked, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and averting his eyes from directly meeting Alfred's. "Will he be sold back to his previous owner, or should we cast him out on the streets?"

Alfred frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead when he had stepped in to stop the sacrifice from being taken place.

One look at his eyes quickly settled it, though. "Bring him back to the palace," he said slowly, making sure that his order would be clearly understood. "I'm sure the staff will find something for him to do."

He watched as the men bowed and led the man away. When he was absolutely certain that nobody was looking, Alfred allowed himself to lean back against the stone steps and crumple to the ground.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

So this was originally supposed to be a drabble for the 365daysofusuk tumblr, but I couldn't keep it under 1000 words :/ What I did was take a post from an Aztec au roleplay I wrote back in 2011 and continue the opening scene from purely Alfred's perspective. The end result was a better written (if I do say so myself) and a bit different scene, but the general plot points remained the same. If I ever do continue this, though, I'd have to veer off from the original roleplay to keep it my own work.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed :) I'd love to hear your impression, dear reader!


	2. Chapter 2

If eyes could torch holes into one's back, Alfred was sure that he would have been long dead. A week had passed since his outburst at the sacrifice ritual and he could still feel people's gazes on him as he passed them by in the palace halls. He supposed he should have been used to all the attention by then, being the only legitimate son of the emperor, but never had he been scrutinized so thoroughly be so many people at the same time. Not in his own home.

Being of royal descent came with its responsibilities, however, and Alfred squared his shoulders and bared with it. The dozen of pairs of eyes hadn't been much of a burden at first, admittedly. Speaking out of turn at a religious ceremony had been his first act of singularity and it was a pleasure to know that the people went out of their way to learn all they could about him.

Never again would he be a minor addition in his father retinue- he was now of public interest on his own right.

His tutor had congratulated him the day after, smiling at him warmly as Alfred took his seat opposite him. A retired priest, Cipactli had been given the task of teaching Alfred to read, write and study the position of the stars ever since the age of four. Alfred spent countless hours with the man over the years, far more than he had ever passed privately with his father.

Cipactli was not the usual archetype of a priest. He refused meat and wine and would sleep in late during the morning rituals. He would sharply reprimand Alfred if he were to slink away from any sort of ceremony but would encourage him to break apart the speeches he would hear and ask him questions. Dozens of questions. Cipactli would refuse to say another word until Alfred thought for himself and offered him an answer.

"Don't be a fool, Alfred," the old man would caution absently every now and then, looking at him but not quite seeing him (or so Alfred would feel). "Fools are the ones who end up on the sacrificial slab."

Still, Alfred hadn't expected the man to be pleased with him after the temple fiasco. Cipactli had been a priest, after all, even if the years had dulled his memory. His smile hadn't disappeared even after Alfred had recounted the event in his own words, though. In fact, Alfred could have sworn that it had grown wider.

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't understand. Shouldn't you reprimand me for impious behavior?"

Cipactli's smile finally vanished, giving way for a small frown. Alfred thought the tutor was about to answer him, but instead the man looked away and studied the codex on the table. "Standing out among the elite is important, Alfred. When the day comes and the Council of Four have to decide who will inherit your father, they will choose someone whose name they can remember. You have made yourself recognizable and have started your journey in proving your worth."

Alfred had nodded solemnly but the words continued to echo in his head throughout the week, pinning the heavy weight of responsibility to the stares he received and thoroughly ruining any delight he might have gotten from being noticed. He hadn't realized that with one noticeable act he had unintentionally declared war on anyone else who aspired to claim the throne.

He wasn't ready for that kind of strategic thinking quite yet. He was only eighteen, and his father was in his prime.

The sun was setting in the distance as Alfred stepped into his bedroom, allowing the blanket to fall back to place after he had pushed through the door frame. He had been out hunting with a group of men from the palace and his fingernails were caked with dirt. His tilma was splattered with quickly drying bloodstains from that one time when he had been sure that the animal was dead, but as he had drawn close to his prey, it struggled in his arms and smeared blood all over him.

Alfred had only meant to remove his necklace and arm band before heading towards the steam bath. He would have done just that, too, if not for the man crouching in front of his hearth. Alfred paused, not having expected a servant to be in his room at such a late hour, but proceeded to make his way across the room to his desk, ignoring the other's presence according to protocol.

He never made it to his desk, however, once he observed in the corner of his eye how the man stood up and dusted his tunic from the ashes. The blond hair Alfred had first noticed had left him with an unsettling feeling, but as the man turned around and revealed his face, Alfred saw _them._

The green eyes.

"You!" he exclaimed, caught completely off guard. He tried to calm his voice, but the pitch which came out was still a bit higher than he would have liked. "You're the guy from the ceremony!"

The man flinched and turned around to face him fully before bowing low. Even as he straightened back up, he kept his eyes downcast, despite Alfred's desire to see them clearly. "You're highness," the man murmured dutifully.

Alfred had thought about the man he had saved from having his life end on the altar frequently. He had known that he was somewhere in the palace, as he had ordered, but hadn't dared to seek him out. The notion of a prince going out of his way to find a mere slave was absurd.

Fate had dealt him a fair hand, apparently, and granted him the opportunity of meeting his charity case purely by coincidence. Now that he had his chance, though, Alfred wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

Remembering his place, Alfred straightened his back and forced himself to measure out his words carefully. "I see you have been integrated into the palace's workforce," he said eventually, casting a look about him and noting how clean the stone floor was. "You were assigned my room?"

The man nodded, keeping his arms steadily at his sides "Yes, your highness. I was ordered to tidy up your room before your return. I apologize that I have not finished in time and have inconvenienced you."

Alfred shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. "It's alright, the party returned earlier than expected. It isn't your fault." He paused, wondering briefly when he had become so chatty with the servants. He hadn't exchanged more than a few words with one since he had been a child. He really should just send the man away.

But before that... "Tell me, what is your name?"

For the first time since the man had turned to face him, he raised his eyes to meet his and Alfred was rewarded with demure green. He almost didn't notice the small frown on the other's face, as it had creased his features for only a brief moment before smoothing back into blank compliance. "My name is Arthur."

They continued to look at each other before Arthur must have fully realized who he was speaking to and lowered his eyes to the ground once more. Alfred shifted in his place and cast a wistful look at the door frame a short way behind the other man.

"You may go," he relented after a short silence, itching to leave as well. Somehow, this encounter hadn't gone at all as he had thought it would go. He hadn't expected it to be so awkward.

Arthur inclined his head in obeisance and turned to leave, breaching the distance between him and the exit and going as far to press his hand to the material hanging from the door frame before he was stopped. Alfred called out to him and ordered him to 'wait!'

The man half turned in his direction and looked at him questioningly. Alfred cursed himself for voicing his thought, but now that it had gotten him Arthur's attention, he simply _had to know._

"Aren't you going to thank me?" he blurted out, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. "I saved your life, you know. Aren't you thankful that I spared you?"

Arthur met his gaze without hesitation this time and though his face remained impassive, his voice was firm. "No, I'm not," he replied quietly, turning back and pushing past the fabric, leaving Alfred gaping behind.

* * *

Seeing that I had decided to continue this into a full multi-chap fic, I came to the conclusion that I actually had to do some research and boy did I learn a lot! I had to look up all kind of things while writing and I kept realizing that the Aztec world is so very different from all the other ancient societies I've read about it the past. Their social structure and hierarchy differs in many ways from ancient Egypt's, for example, especially when it comes to succession and slavery.

Despite said research, I do not claim to accurately portray their society, so don't go writing papers for school based on what you learn from this fic, mind you xD Not saying I'm not going to aim for veracity, but I'm going to have to bend and twist some things to fit the story. Just warning you.

Aside from that, thank you so much for reading! 3 I'd really love to hear back from you, so any comments are greatly appreciated!


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